body of Will Whittaker and he seems to
have died from these pistol shots. But I reckon it calls, merely on
the face of it, mind, for me to make good the word I gave to Wellesly.
Here are my guns."

He handed his rifle to Halliday, unfastened his cartridge belt and
passed that and his revolver to the deputy sheriff. Among the
Whittaker party there were some glances of surprise, but more nods of
congratulation. Nick and Tom looked at each other in indignant dismay.
Tom's eyes were full of tears and his lips were twitching. "What did
he want to do that for?" he whispered to Nick. "We had 'em sure
buffaloed and on the run, and now he's plum' spoiled the whole thing!"

"I reckon it was the best thing you could do, Emerson," said Judge
Harlin, "but I'm sorry you had to do it."

Mead saw Daniels in the crowd around the body. "Hello, John," he
called, "I thought we tipped you over just now. Hurt much?"

"No, not much. Only a scratch on the shoulder."

The entire party went around to the spring and bathed one another's
wounds, and the Mexican woman tore her sheets into strips and made
bandages for them. No one had been killed, but there were a number of
flesh wounds and some broken bones. They hired horses of the Mexican
to take the place of those that had been killed and then started for
Las Plumas, Mead riding between Daniels and Halliday. Judge Harlin,
with Nick and Tom, followed some distance in the rear.

Tom looked after them, as they rode away, with angry eyes. His huge
chest was heaving with sobs he could scarcely control. "Damn their
souls," he exclaimed fiercely to Nick, "if Emerson wasn't among them
I'd open on 'em right now."

"How we could buffalo 'em," assented Nick.

"It was a damned shame," Tuttle went on indignantly, "for Emerson to
give up that way. We could have cleaned 'em all out and got rid of 'em
for good, if he hadn't given up. We'll never get such a chance again,
and the Lord knows what will happen to Emerson now!" And Tom bent his
huge frame over his gun and bowed his head on his hands, while a great
sob convulsed his big bulk from head to foot. He and Judge Harlin
argued the question all the way to Las Plumas, and the judge well-nigh
exhausted his knowledge of law and his ingenuity in argument in the
effort to convince his companion that Emerson Mead had done the best
thing possible for him to do. But the last thing Tom said as they drew
up in front of Judge Harlin's office was:

"Well, it